While Signs is, admittedly, one of my favorite alien movies (I don’t care how you feel about M. Night Shyamalan, that’s a freaking great movie)…these are not the kind of signs I’m talking about.
I am talking about the kind of signs that we look for, find, create, and sometimes base our whole lives around.
When I first started dating MF I had all of the signs. Signs like our birthdays being the inverse of each other, with the number 3 sprinkled in there a couple of times. Our middle names, Michael and Michelle, the girl/boy versions of one another. Our cats both being black. We both just got out of 3 and 1/2 year relationships. And the hotel room we stayed in Branson was number 313. Not to mention he lived on a street with lots of 3’s in it. Our last names were even similar. I know this sounds completely insane, but I truly believed it meant something. And by something, I thought it meant that we were meant. And more than the number 3 and other nonsensical commonalities, we had a lot in common personality-wise. I just had to add that in my defense so you don’t think I’m a total loony, just a little bit of one. 😉
As the relationship progressed (and became increasingly more destructive), those signs became something to hold onto.
And then my (unconscious) silly signs quest turned into a search for sanity signs. I began to look for signs that I wasn’t losing my mind. That this love was for real. That this love was it. I held onto the number 3. The black cats. The 3 1/2 yr failed relationships. The middle names. The last names.
But with the passing months, the number three faded and was replaced with neglect, hateful words, and MF telling me I was never happy. And I should just be happy.
There’s a fine line between being in denial and staying positive. I was most definitely in denial. Funny how you can never tell that when you are IN it, because that would just be too helpful.
He was right, though. I was never happy. Up until a point I could keep my positivity and the sweet number 3 in the forefront of my mind, but when you’re treated like shit over and over and you tell him, “Hey, I can’t keep going on like this,” and his response is, “The things I did for her (the ex-fiancee) are the things you want, and I can’t give them to you.” It really is the last thing you want to do…just be happy.
I was in denial that he wanted to be with me. That he loved me. He didn’t love me. And he just wanted someone to be with. Someone to have experiences with. Someone to fill the shoes of the other one, and the one before her. I’m just not the kind of person that can keep my mouth shut, so he made a mistake there. He needs someone who just takes it. But I fought back. I talked back.
My mom has always told me to date someone who is more in love with me than I am with them. My guest blogger, Whipperwill, delved into this idea in her post, “Devotion Came on the Edge of a Nervous Breakdown.” When I first read Whipperwill’s story, I teared up. This be-with-someone-who-loves-you-more idea wasn’t just something my mom concocted in her 60 year life of failed relationships? Other people thought it was the key, too.
Is that true? Is that the secret? I really don’t like that answer. I find it to be disturbing. But it’s the only one I have right now.
Both guys I truly, madly, deeply loved didn’t work out. Parker and MF. One was amazing to me, but too self-destructive to see our future together. MF was the worse relationship of my life and I’m still figuring that one out. Both of them I made sacrifices for, and both of them fucked me over (in very different ways). And the funny thing is, I’m sure they feel the same way about me. I was the one who ended both of those relationships. And I was a pretty awesome girlfriend. I gave it all. Maybe that’s my problem. I give it all.
It’s not in my nature to hold back. I don’t know if I can find the happy medium between holding back and giving it all. How do I find it?
Maybe this is a sign. A sign that the way I was doing it before wasn’t the best way to do it. And with MF, in true Ace of Base spirit, I eventually saw the sign that opened up my eyes.
Yours holding back next time with a few less signs to live by,